


Day 20: Pain/Sensation Play

by hannahrhen



Series: Tag-Team: 30 Days of Steve/Bucky Porn [20]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Bottom Bucky, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild S&M, Painplay, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Tickling, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:56:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm tired of the kid gloves, Rogers," Bucky prodded. "Come on. Take 'em off."</p><p>Or, Steve thinks Bucky's been hurt enough. Bucky doesn't agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 20: Pain/Sensation Play

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chasingriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/gifts).



> Additional Warning: So, here's the hypocrisy--I wrote Steve being a little--erm--rough with Bucky's privates, and I am too embarrassed to tag it that way. This is my life. 
> 
> For chasingriver: Dirtiest one so far just for you, darling.

“I can’t.”

“You did before. We both wanted it. What’s different?”

“God, come on, Buck. Everything’s different.”

“You keep tellin’ me you love me just the same.”

“I do.”

“Then nothing’s really different, is it? Nothing that matters.”

*******

It should have been just a relief to Steve, those bits and pieces of Bucky slipping back in, taking up the empty places that had left the Winter Soldier half-formed, incomplete. Steve watched avidly as Bucky rediscovered his old habits, his old preferences, as he slotted them back into the scant framework left by HYDRA’s cruelties.

Drinking enough root beer to make his stomach turn. Rereading Twain and Dickens because they reminded him of school (even if he hadn’t remembered yet that he hated Dickens). Picking clothes in colors he’d liked before, that suited him--bright colors, not just the blacks and dark grays that left him in shadow.

Steve--specifically the memory of being _with_ Steve--was one of the last pieces to return. Once in place, and Steve could tell the exact moment it slotted in, when Bucky turned that considering look to him and Steve’s skin prickled, Bucky …

Bucky wasn’t gonna be coy about it. Made it clear he wasn’t willing to wait. Hell, he came on so strong Steve felt like a deer in a rifle’s sight, twitchy, with his heart just racing when he felt Bucky watching him. At first, anyway. Being stalked so boldly, even in the familiar rooms of his own apartment, excited Steve like nothing had in years, made him dumb with want.

His own craving for Bucky had never been sublimated, and giving in …

God, giving in felt _good._

Mostly. _Mostly_ it felt good. It also still seemed wrong, even shameful, taking Bucky to bed when the hurts were so obvious, but Bucky was tenacious when he got something in his head, and somewhere in day three or four of his unsubtle seduction, he’d convinced Steve it would hurt worse if Steve didn’t put hands on him.

Convinced, Steve gave in joyfully, making love to Bucky like he’d dreamed of since the reunion on the bridge. Slow and sweet; long rolling tests of their stamina with promises whispered between them. Steve could have lived with it that way, having Bucky only that way, gentle and worshipful, for as long as they had.

Eventually, though, Bucky remembered one more thing.

And that …

Oh, God. _That._

“I’m tired of the kid gloves, Rogers.” He twisted himself between Steve’s thighs, stretched himself out on the bed to elongate his torso, to make a show of it. Knew what got Steve’s blood up, and Bucky slithering around under him, feeling Bucky’s dick tickling his ass from below, was one of his surefire things.

“Come on,” Bucky prodded again. “Take ‘em off. I ain't gonna break.”

Steve was shaky--hard, yeah, because watching Bucky strip naked and let Steve climb over him was another surefire thing, but his arms were lax at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them next. They’d had all the arguments for two damned weeks now. On Steve’s side: Bucky had suffered enough; it wasn’t a game anymore; Steve knew what had been done to him, so how could he ask Steve to--

On Bucky’s side: Oh, Bucky _wanted_ it.

Bucky regained his attention with an impatient huff of his name. Steve looked down after a slow blink, an inhale, to find Bucky glaring at him. Like he could read the arguments going through Steve’s head and was silently fighting back in his own. He growled. “I swear to God … I _swear to God_ , if you don’t give me what I want, I’ll find someone who will.” He started to hoist himself up onto his elbows, like he was going somewhere, like he could move Steve off him if Steve didn’t want to go. “I’ll bet Stark wouldn’t mind goin’ at me a little”--

Steve’s palm was on Bucky’s breastbone in a second, pushing him back down. Had to shake off the vicious flare of crimson that dimmed his vision. Took a breath and settled his ass more firmly on Bucky’s hips to hold him in place. “Stop it. I know what you’re doing.”

“Do you?” And this was why it had started originally, before the war. Bucky goading and goading and goading, and the only way to get him to cut it out was to--

Steve pressed his fingertips into Bucky’s ribs, just below his nipples, and took a deep breath. Didn’t acknowledge the bright smirk that spread across Bucky’s face as he immediately relaxed back into the mattress and raised both arms over his head, onto the pillows. Opened his mouth to speak again, to tease, and--

God, Bucky. Okay.

_Okay._

Steve scraped his fingernails down the tender flesh over Bucky’s ribs and abdomen, leaving eight lines that blazed white and then shaded to a deep pink. Shivered a little at the sweet sound it drew out, how it lasted until the long scratches ended just above Bucky's groin. He looked straight at Bucky, into those happy, hopeful eyes, and started again, this time from just under his collarbone.

His made sure his middle fingers were centered on Buck’s nipples as they passed over that time. Got bumped a little by the upward jolt of Bucky’s spine.

“God, Steve--”

“Shh.”

The third time, he moved to Bucky’s sides, a dip into the fur under his armpits, over the sleek lats, and into the vee of his waist. Was ready for the tension underneath--ready for Bucky to jerk up into him suddenly and without control. Couldn’t not smile a little at the gasping laugh he’d earned. Bucky was always ticklish, and Bucky still liked being tickled, at least this way, at least by Steve.

He did it again, and again, dancing his fingertips down the sensitive skin, followed by a drag of sharp nails to mark him. Each time he enjoyed the feeling of the hips beneath him swiveling up and pressing Bucky’s hard length just at the apex of Steve’s thighs, right behind his balls. Wasn’t sure how he was going to get off yet--they’d get there eventually, either making use of Bucky’s mouth or his ass, maybe--but there was plenty of time to figure it out.

Bucky always liked taking this slow.

He liked to savor the hurt Steve inflicted as much as the pleasure.

Steve looked down at Bucky’s chest after, where his pale skin was scored with angry lines. He was gorgeous like this, willfully helpless, arms thrown over his head and fingers knotted into the pillows (even if Steve shied away from the metal arm in his survey--too much a reminder of the harm that others had done to Bucky).

The eyes that stared back at him were half-lidded and hazy with pleasure, which was the encouragement Steve needed to keep going. That and the puffy, stiff nubs of Bucky’s nipples, which were just begging for a firm hand. They’d responded so well to the earlier touches, but they always wanted their own attention. He put his palms on either side of Bucky’s chest, and curved his thumbs just perfectly to flick the nails over the tight peaks.

Spoke over Bucky’s shivers, his little mewls. “You want me to keep going?”

It was a perfunctory question, but necessary-- _permission_ was necessary. Even if Bucky could hardly stop moving, pushing his chest up to Steve’s fingers and then squirming to try to get away. Steve felt the vibrations of his voice through his ribcage as he answered: “God, yes. _Yes,_ Steve. _Please_.” It was amazing how little it actually took to get him like this, giving it all up to Steve's hands. Sure enough, Bucky gave a real moan when Steve caught and twisted the nipples between his fingers, first one, and then the other. Held each between a finger and thumb and rolled them good and rough. Got a sharp cry for it that time, which was-- _God._

When he realized Steve wasn’t about to stop, Bucky reached for the headboard with both hands and got a good hold. Steve knew he wanted them tied there--or shackled, to be realistic--but Steve had said no. Not the first time.

He used the distraction of brutalizing Bucky’s nipples to move off his body a little, to slide off-center so he just straddled one thigh, and then set himself firmly onto it so Bucky couldn’t kick up by reflex and maybe do some unwanted harm. A few more pinches to those swollen little nubs, now reshaped into points by Steve’s fingers, and he was satisfied. Bucky’s breath was coming in pants, every third one or so more of a groan, his eyes were squeezed shut, and he was responding to every one of Steve’s touches with a flinch or a shudder.

Beautiful.

Time for a little more.

Bucky tried to talk again when Steve gripped his cock in his hand, hard, and lifted it as much as he could away from his vulnerable sac, which pulled up at the movement. Felt the body beneath him tense, words forgotten; Bucky knew what was coming. Steve didn’t have it in him to be inventive today; there would be time enough for it later.

He cupped the balls gently in his hand and ran his thumb over the soft skin. Bit down a smile to see Bucky struggling to open his legs wider. Forgot how much Bucky liked this. How much he wanted it.

He bent low just to kiss the tender inside of an inner thigh and left a wet mark behind. He studied Buck's face for a moment as his fingers manipulated those testicles between them, being so careful where Bucky was so delicate. Had a question to ask again, out loud: “Okay?”

Bucky's heels dragged through the bedcovers, and Steve heard the scrapes of his nails digging into the headboard. Bucky never took his eyes off Steve. “Yeah, God. _Yes_.”

Kept his grip tight on Bucky’s cock, worked it slowly from tip to base and back up, watching the skin shift under his hand, and, while Bucky was already moaning, drew his other hand back and gave Bucky’s balls a sharp smack.

Bucky hissed, his entire body jerking up, and it was a good thing Steve had settled his weight firmly on that thigh, or they might both be hurting, and it wouldn’t be as much fun for Steve. The strike hadn't been cruel, but there was no doubt Bucky had felt it; his face was screwed up, brows wrinkled together, and, after one little whimper, he’d caught his lower lip between his teeth.

Bucky in pain was--

It was all Steve could do not to slap him again, even before he’d recovered. Because Bucky in pain confused the hell out of Steve. It always had, from the first night he’d been convinced to torment Bucky’s flesh with hands, teeth, a belt. Slaps, pinches, lashings. Nothing should be that beautiful when it hurt; the closest thing Steve knew were the paintings he'd seen in every museum--saints murdered in terrible ways and yet somehow always lost to ecstasy.

Steve knew the purpose it served in artwork--the story meant to be told, the lesson conveyed. In Bucky’s case, though--

Steve would give him anything he wanted. That was the only lesson he’d learned.

“Still okay?”

Bucky didn’t answer for a minute--he was staring up at the ceiling, chest rising quickly as he gasped, and he looked like he was still trying to form words. Steve was about to stop, about to pull away, when Bucky snapped out of the fugue and just looked at Steve with … pride.

“Don’t … stop, Steve,” he breathed. His unweighted foot came up to kick Steve in the calf. “You were doing great.”

Steve chuckled--caressed Bucky’s balls with light fingers as he released his cock. “Fine.” Reached past his shoulder for the lube and dropped it on Bucky’s stomach. “Get your hands slicked up.” Settled himself back into place over Bucky’s thigh and took his dick in hand again. Gave it a couple of jerks while he tugged on Bucky’s sac harder than most men would take, stretching it away from the protection of his body.

Bucky’s hands were shaking as he squeezed the lube onto his fingers. “God, Steve--”

Steve slapped him once more, just there on his balls, to discourage his mouth. When that did the trick, when Bucky swallowed the yelp and stayed silent, he reached for the natural arm first, guided it to Bucky’s own cock. “You’re gonna take over for me here.” After he was satisfied, he lifted Bucky’s free leg up, pressing it to his red-ruled chest. “And we’re gonna start with two fingers here.”

So: flesh outside, metal in. He got a pointed look for that, and Steve realized he probably hadn’t been subtle, mostly ignoring Bucky’s artificial arm when they’d been together. They could discuss the why’s later; Steve just returned the look and said, “Better get going. I’m gonna fuck you soon, and hard.” Got another smile for that, Bucky just so proud of him, and he watched as Bucky slowly, determinedly penetrated himself with two of those thick fingers.

He was so tight, and it always took a long time for Steve to open him up when things were going slow and loving between them. Now Bucky arched his back and gritted his teeth as he forced those fingers deep at the first go. As Steve scratched those same short, sharp nails up the silken-skinned back of Bucky’s exposed thigh. Pinched him hard on the roundest part of his ass cheek. Slapped his balls again, a little harder this time, while Bucky worked his cock with slippery-wet fingers.

Bucky whimpered as his balls bounced, and Steve wondered where Bucky wanted to be bitten.

Wondered what it would take to make him cry.

Wondered if doing this made Steve some kind of monster.

There were tears collecting in the corners of Bucky’s eyes, and he was smiling at Steve like this was his own kind of ecstasy. So Steve wondered instead at Bucky still wanting this, wanting him, after everything. Because, with that look on Bucky’s face--oh, God, Steve knew he _did._

He moved off Bucky’s thigh and settled between his knees, pushing both his legs up to his chest this time. Hooked his hands into the hollows behind his knees and pushed them wide. “Three fingers now, Buck. Deep and rough, just like I’m gonna give it to you.” And he watched Bucky’s smile go wider while he brought his hand around the front of his body for that, watched him tense all over as his ring finger pushed in with the others, just like Steve wanted. Showing himself no mercy, because Steve wouldn’t.

It was mesmerizing, the silvery fingers working their way into his hole, the sleek curves of his ass around them, the even, unmarked flesh. It gave him ideas. “I should take a cane to you,” Steve considered, apparently out loud, because Bucky just moaned and worked his fingers in harder, opening himself wide for Steve’s cock.

His legs quivered in Steve’s hold. “God, do it,” and Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky meant the cane or his cock, but it was close enough. He barked at Bucky to get the fingers out of his way. Got himself in place with his full weight on the backs of Bucky’s thighs--knew what Bucky could take, what he wanted. And when Steve shoved in, after what felt like a million years, his own pleasure was an afterthought. Bucky was lost in his own mind, groaning, whining Steve’s name, and Steve--God, Steve was gonna come fast. Glad he’d made Bucky wait for it, because anything else would have been embarrassing.

Rode him hard and rough like he’d promised, like they’d both wanted, with Bucky’s hands clutching the headboard and begging Steve _please, please, please_ , not to stop but to do it harder, to use Bucky up from the inside. Like this, Bucky was impossible to deny. Steve chided himself silently: Hell, Bucky was always impossible to deny, no matter what he wanted. And if Steve was savaging his hole with merciless thrusts, it was just because Bucky was pleading for it.

Because Bucky wanted to be hurt, and marked, and used.

By Steve. _Only_ by Steve.

And Steve, God help him--Steve wanted to hurt, and mark, and use Bucky, no matter what that made him.

He waited, waited until Bucky threw his head back and his whole body seized up, waited until just the exact moment when his climax had taken root in him but his cock wasn’t spurting yet, and then breathed into his ear, words slurred together, “I love you. God. _Bucky._ I love you _so much_.”

And what would have been a shout of pleasure became instead a long, deep howl of Steve’s name, hands yanked from the headboard to dig nails into his back, legs squeezed so tight that Steve almost lost his breath as he felt Bucky’s slick come spatter and spread between them.

After a moment, felt Bucky’s hands settle on his ass, tugging at him, encouraging him. “Come on. Steve, come on.” So, he leaned his weight onto Bucky, letting those strong legs support him, cushion his thrusts. Bucky’s calves hooked over Steve’s arms and his whole body twisted up, and now Steve’s pleasure was all that mattered. And Steve finished his rut, worked by the flutters of Bucky's spasming hole, before gathering Bucky even closer, burying his face between his neck and shoulder, and finally, silently spilling.

After, he wanted to stay there, inside of and on top of Bucky, but Steve knew just how heavy he was and knew Bucky wouldn’t complain even when he should. So he withdrew and rolled off … just in time to see the tears coming loose from the corners of Bucky’s eyes, his forehead furrowed in--

“Oh, _Jesus_ , Buck, did I--”

“Steve, shut up. Just … shut up,” Bucky gasped. “Do you think … “ And he interrupted himself with a broken laugh, almost a choke. Reached out the metal arm and took Steve’s wrist in those fingers, hard enough to bruise anyone else. “You held back because you thought--” Another breath, and he began again, stronger: “Steve, _God_ ... Do you think _anything_ they did to me was like that?

"Did you think anything they did made me _feel_  like that? Steve?"

And Steve was surprised stupid, shaking his head to try to answer Buck's questions despite it. Knew he was gonna tear up in a minute, because … Jesus, _Bucky._ He couldn’t even pull it together enough to smile back. Couldn't even give Bucky the _reassurance._

But he was slapped on the arm anyway, and kinda hard, before he had a chance, and Bucky just snorted and said, “I love you, too, you big, dumb shit.”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve said, as he rolled back on top of Bucky and hugged him tight.

**Author's Note:**

> Just promise to throw my computer, my Google Drive account, and my dirty, dirty brain into a bonfire when I die, okay? 
> 
> [Find me on tumblr](http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com), thinkin' dirty thoughts about Marvel characters.


End file.
